


Practice Makes Perfect

by BookishBrigitta



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Aunt!Nebula, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Inspired by House M.D., Kid Fic, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Parent Gamora (Marvel), Parent Peter Quill, pre-school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishBrigitta/pseuds/BookishBrigitta
Summary: “She has the fine motor skills of the Hulk in oven mitts,” Nebula said as she watched her niece struggle to put pegs into blocks.“Yeah.  This dast school better be worth it,” Rocket griped.OR Delilah Quill needs to pass her preschool entrance exam.  Her aunt and uncle lend a hand.  (But only for selfish reasons, right?  They have an image to maintain, after all.)
Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Practice Makes Perfect

“Remind me again why you’re foisting your spawn on us?” Rocket griped as he ate his lunch.

“Because Gamora and I are touring a preschool this afternoon, and we need someone to watch Delilah while we’re gone,” said Peter, adjusting the little girl on his lap.

“Why can’t Tiny Quill go with you? It’s a school, ain’t it?” 

“You can’t really ask questions or get into specifics when you’re lugging around a 3-year-old,” Peter explained. “And it’s not like she won’t get to see the school. Her interview is in a month.”

“Interview?” said Rocket. “It’s a freaking kid containment facility!”

“Sunny Steps Academy is a _good school_ ,” Peter insisted. “We’re really excited about this one.Great teacher-to-student ratio, and all the teachers are all really well-trained. The facilities are awesome--fully fenced playground with a curly slide _and_ a tire swing.”

“Whoop-de-freaking-do.”

“And more importantly, they’ve got a great gifted program.”

Rocket watched the younger Quill dip her entire face into her breakfast.

“Sure you’re gonna need that program?”

Peter glared at him.

“We’ve done our research.” He paused. “Delilah, sweetheart, use a spoon.”

* * *

“Why are you calling me? Is everyone alright?” Nebula snapped.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine,” he assured. “Quill and Gamora are touring some fancy preschool and left us with the kid.”

“And you thought you needed to bother me with this because...?” 

“The school’s insane. There’s an interview and everything!”

“Like I care about a playdate,” Nebula said boredly. “Was there a point to any of this?”

“It’s not a playdate! It’s a test! This is how they weed out the rejects. We have to do something, ‘cause your niece is dumber than a box of rocks. Blame Quill’s side. She’ll just sit there and try to eat the toys.”

“I still fail to see how this is my problem. Or yours, for that matter.”

“Because who do you think they’ll rope into babysitting if Tiny Quill doesn’t make the cut? _Us_ , dumbass!” Rocket exclaimed.

Nebula’s eyes widened.

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

* * *

A few days later, Nebula approached the park bench Rocket was sitting on.

“Fox.”

“Blue.”

“You have the stuff?”

“Here. You can put it on in the bathroom,” Rocket replied, nodding to a cafe across the street and handing her a briefcase.

Nebula took the case and followed his instructions. Once safely locked in the bathroom, she opened the bag and examined the contents: a white button-up shirt, a gray pantsuit, a blonde wig, and a compression glove to cover her prosthetic hand. She grimaced and started dressing. Minutes later, she emerged, blonde hair strategically covering her cybernetic eye. She ordered a coffee to avoid suspicion and headed back to the park to rejoin her partner in crime.

“Hey, you’re back. The wig really--”

Nebula cut him off. 

“Are these Gamora’s clothes?” she asked harshly.

“Yeah,” Rocket answered.

“You idiot!” Nebula yelled. “What if she wears this suit to the interview?!”

“Ohhhhh,” said Rocket. “Maybe you can just keep it until after the interview? She’s got a lot of ‘em--probably won’t notice.”

“ _Of course_ she’ll notice! She’s a trained spy!”

He frowned. “Fine, what do you think we should do?”

“Burn the suit.”

“What?! If Gamora would notice her suit missing for a few weeks, she’s sure as hell going to notice if we incinerate it!”

“Not like _that_. With an iron. It’ll look like an accident,” said Nebula.

“Oh,” he said, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, that could work.”

Nebula rolled her eyes.

“Where is the school?” she asked.

“Three streets down,” Rocket said. “Big sun painted on it.”

“Best to get to it. I’ll meet you back here in a couple hours,” she said and started walking down the street.

* * *

Nebula studied the building before her. It was one story, made of cheery red bricks, and had a fence stretching out from the sides and around the back. As Rocket mentioned, it also had an enormous mural of a sun painted on the bricks on one side of the door. In the middle of the mural in big, blue letters was the name: Sunny Steps Academy. It was, in Nebula’s opinion, nauseatingly idyllic.

She straightened her shoulders and rung the bell. Almost instantly, a voice came through the speaker next to the door.

“Can I help you?” the voice asked.

“Yes,” said Nebula. “I’m from Nova Corps. I need to speak to your director.”

“One moment.”

The door swung open, and Nebula stepped into a spacious lobby guarded by a large, curved reception desk. She approached the woman behind the desk, presumably the one who had buzzed her in.

“Name and identification, please,” the woman said.

“Doctor Naomi Jennings,” Nebula lied, handing the woman the I.D. badge Rocket had forged. “Nova Corps sent me.”

“Have a seat,” the receptionist said. “I’ll let you know when the director can see you.”

Nebula sat down, taking in her surroundings. The lobby was just as sappy as the exterior. The walls were sky-blue with clouds painted at various intervals. There were groups of sofas around coffee tables for the adults and a handful of miniature chairs and tables set up with picture books and art supplies for the kids. The whole lobby was illuminated by a massive skylight, which greatly benefitted the four large potted plants surrounding the receptionist’s desk.

Before too long, the receptionist led her into an office behind the desk. Inside the office was a middle-aged Xandrian woman--the director, Nebula assumed.

“Angela Winston,” said the woman, shaking Nebula’s hand.

“Doctor Naomi Jennings.”

“What brings you to Sunny Steps, Dr. Jennings?” Ms. Winston asked.

“A pediatrician alerted Nova Corps about a child becoming ill after an interview here,” said Nebula.

“How awful!” said Ms. Winston. “Can you tell us which child? We’d like to offer the family our deepest apologies and support.”

“I’m afraid it’s confidential,” she said. “And most likely, it’s nothing, but one can never be too careful about these things.”

“Of course, of course,” Ms. Winston agreed, nodding vigorously. “What can I do to help?”

Had she been less trained, Nebula would have smiled. This was all too easy.

“I’ll need to examine whatever materials the child may have come into contact with. Where would the interview have taken place?”

“Right this way,” said Ms. Winston, leading Nebula down a hall and into a room filled with toys and games.

“And you’re certain it was this room?”

“It’s the only room we use for interviews.”

“Perfect. Have you or your staff experienced any symptoms?” Nebula asked.

“Not that I can recall.”

“Nevertheless, you should probably reduce your potential exposure,” said Nebula as she pulled on a mask entirely for show. “Probably nothing, but again, never can be too careful.”

“Right,” Ms. Winston said, already backing out of the room. “And if you do find something troubling….”

“I’ll make sure to let you know.”

The door swung shut with a resounding _click_. Finally alone, Nebula snapped off the mask and brushed back the wig. Then, systematically, she inspected each and every toy, game, and activity in the room, recording it all with her cybernetic eye. After a suitably lengthy amount of time, Nebula emerged from the room. She assured Ms. Winston that she hadn’t found anything worrisome and that these things happen and Nova Corps would contact them should anything else come up. Soon enough, her visit would be but a distant memory for Sunny Steps.

* * *

Delilah and Groot got along well, and Rocket planned to use that to his advantage. Offering to baby-sit would be too suspicious--he had, after all, repeatedly insisted that Tiny Quill was not his problem--but an invitation to play with Groot would be hard to resist. Nebula had assured Peter and Gamora that she would be on the ship working on her datapad anyway should any issues arise, and the Parents Quill blithely left their spawn to what they assumed would be an afternoon of tickle fights and dance parties. Perfect.

As soon as the hatch closed, Rocket set Groot up with his video games. Confident the tiny tree would be out of their hair for a few hours at least, he dragged the bag of toys out from under his bunk and made his way to the _Benatar’s_ rec room where Delilah and Nebula were waiting.

“Alright, pipsqueak!” Rocket said as he walked up to the little girl. “Playtime.”

He took out a simple peg puzzle and dumped the pieces on the floor.

Delilah continued arranging the plastic food she had been playing with earlier. 

“Come on! What’s this color?” he asked, holding up a yellow puzzle piece.

“Red!” Delilah said emphatically, waving a red plastic fruit at him.

“Okay. _That_ one is red. What color is _this_ one?”

But the little girl didn’t answer, instead focused on making what in reality would have been a culinary monstrosity.

“That’s it,” Nebula said strictly. “No more foods.”

She swept the toys away from the girl in one fluid movement.

“Now, Delilah, look at this. What’s the color?”

“Blue!” said her niece as she poked a pudgy finger into Nebula’s forearm.

Nebula sighed and dropped the puzzle piece.

“We need a way to get her motivated,” Rocket said.

“Like what?”

“Hell if I know. What’d your old man do?”

“Failure to comply meant the loss of a fingertip.”

“So...we can rule that one out. What about money?”

Nebula shook her head. “She doesn’t understand money. It’s far too abstract a concept for a 3-year-old.”

“Well how should I know what a 3-year-old understa--”

SLURP.

The pair looked back to Delilah. In the absence of their supervision, she had reclaimed her play food and was now joyously cramming a plastic cookie into her mouth.

“Wait right there,” Nebula instructed.

She returned moments later with a bag of Zarg-Nuts.

“Hey, Delilah! Look!” she called, shaking the bag.

Delilah turned her attention away from her toys.

“Auntie!” she cried, running over and clinging to Nebula’s legs as if she’d been gone for weeks, not minutes.

“Yes, hello,” Nebula said impatiently. “Do you see these Zarg-Nuts?”

Delilah nodded.

“You can have one if you help Rocket with the puzzle.”

The little girl considered this for a moment. And then she slowly made her way towards the puzzle.

“What color is this?” Rocket asked again, holding up the same piece as before.

“Yellow!”

“Good. And which spot does it match?”

Delilah took the piece from him and correctly placed it on the corresponding spot on the board.

“Well done,” said Nebula.

She handed the girl a nut, which she ate immediately. Rocket stared in amazement.

“Did that actually work?” he asked.

“Looks like it.”

“Should of figured. She’s Quill’s kid--of course she’s motivated by food.”

* * *

When Nebula returned the next week, Rocket and Delilah were already set up in the rec room. The little girl sat by an open-mouthed toy creature (something with tentacles--Nebula wasn’t sure of the species) and held a pair of tongs in her hand. Rocket sat next a box-like contraption with a small opening at the bottom, holding a button in his paw.

“Oh, you’re here,” said Rocket. “Good. Her parents are picking her up at 1800 hours. Doesn’t give us much time to waste.”

Nebula obliged and took a seat beside him.

“Observe,” he said, gesturing to the box. “Tiny, feed the sarlacc!”

Delilah attempted to pick up a tiny toy spaceship with the tongs, but mostly succeeded in banging the tongs against the floor before throwing them down in frustration.

“Come on, kid, do you want a Zarg-Nut or not?” Rocket said, tapping the box.

She picked up the tongs and, with a look of grim determination, used them to pick up one of the spaceships and drop it into the toy creature’s maw. She beamed as Rocket clicked the button. Seconds later, the door on the side of the box opened and dispensed a single Zarg-Nut, which Delilah gleefully scooped up and ate.

“What is it?” asked Nebula.

“Robotic treat-delivery system.”

“But why?”

“Less work for us.”

“So you spent all week making a robot so you wouldn’t have to move your arm?” Nebula said unenthusiastically.

“No! It also delivers the reward faster than you or I could if we had to dig around in the bag,” Rocket protested.

“And why would a few seconds matter?”

“The faster the reward is received, the more she’ll associate it with the action. Kids her age have almost no sense of delayed gratification,” Rocket explained. “Plus, the clicking sound the button makes provides instant positive feedback and bridges the time between action and reward.”

“You’ve been reading up on this, haven’t you?”

“So what if I have? It’s in our best interest to get this kid as well-trained as possible.”

Nebula sat back in silence and observed the toy-treat cycle as Delilah worked her way through the training toys. She noticed how he had to bend his wrist in order to get enough force for his paw to depress the button. Finally, she spoke. 

“She has the fine motor skills of the Hulk in oven mitts,” said Nebula as she watched her niece struggle to put pegs into blocks. “This is going to take a while; you’re going to give yourself a repetitive stress injury pressing the button like that.”

“Yeah. This dast school better be worth it,” Rocket griped.

“Give me the button.”

“What? Why?”

Nebula flexed her cybernetic fingers.

“No tendons, no problems.”

Rocket considered this briefly before thrusting the remote at her.

“Alright. But be careful with it, understand? That thing took hours to make.”

Nebula just sighed and pressed the button.

* * *

“Mommy! Daddy!” Delilah squealed as she ran to greet her parents.

“Hey, sweetheart,” said Peter. He crouched down to her level and poked her nose. “Did you have fun with Groot today?”

“Yeah!”

“Did she behave alright for you?” Gamora asked.

“Oh, yeah. No trouble,” said Rocket. “Had a great time.”

“Good to hear.” She turned to Delilah. “Okay, Delilah, time to find your shoes and say ‘bye’ to Groot and Rocket and Auntie Nebula.”

“No!” the little girl shouted, squirming out of her father’s grasp. “No shoes! No byes! Want to stay and play!”

Gamora took a deep breath.

“We can come back another time. But right now it’s time to leave and go eat dinner.”

“No dinner! Not hungry!”

Rocket and Nebula exchanged worried glances. Was their whole plan about to be ruined over a few Zarg-Nuts?

Thankfully, Delilah (like most toddlers) frequently attempted to eschew food in favor of playtime, and her parents had gotten pretty good at navigating her protests.

“Not even for noodles?” Peter asked playfully.

Delilah shook her head.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to eat your noodles, then.”

“Daddy, no!” she gasped in horror. “Don’t eat my noodles!”

“I don’t know, you might have to come with us to make sure I don’t…”

The little girl shoved on her shoes and stretched out her arms for her mother to pick her up.

“Say ‘thank you’” Gamora prompted.

“Thank you! Bye-bye!” Delilah said, waving from her perch on her mother’s hip.

“Goodbye,” said Nebula.

“So long, Tiny.”

The hatch swung shut behind them. 

“That was close,” Nebula breathed.

“You said it.”

* * *

It was decided that Nebula would attend the Sunny Steps playdate in the hopes that her presence would remind Delilah of the training. Peter and Gamora had been slightly sceptical, but pleasantly surprised when Nebula offered to accompany them to the interview. But whatever reservations they may have had were quickly swept away by their daughter’s utter delight that she would get to tell “Auntie” all about her afternoon at school.

“Oh, hi, Nebula,” Gamora said as she opened the door, blouse untucked and wearing only one boot. “It’s been kind of a crazy morning here. Delilah didn’t want her hair brushed, and I had to find a change of clothes because I found this huge scorch mark on the blazer I had planned on wearing. I should have checked it when I picked it up from the cleaners…”

By this point, Gamora was mostly muttering to herself as she tried to button her shirt and cut up a piece of toast for Delilah at the same time.

“I can do that,” Nebula said, taking the toast.

“Oh, would you?”

“It’s not a hardship,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll stay here while she eats. Go get dressed.”

“Thank you!”

Once she was sure Gamora was out of earshot, Nebula turned to her niece, who was happily gnawing her toast.

“Do you know what is happening today?” Nebula asked her.

“School playdate!” she said around a mouthful of bread and jam.

“Correct. What’s this color?” asked Nebula, pointing to the girl’s plastic plate.

“Green!”

“Yes. What’s this shape?”

She pointed to a cut-up segment of toast.

“Triangle!”

“Right again. And do you remember how you feed the sarlacc?”

Delilah made a pinching motion with her thumb and index finger.

“Good girl. You’re ready.”

* * *

After finally getting everyone ready, Nebula found herself back in the brightly-colored Sunny Steps lobby. She was fairly confident that with her bald head and cybernetics on display, she wouldn’t be recognized as the Nova Corps “doctor” that had visited the school a few weeks prior. Still, she chose a seat with her back to the receptionist while she waited for Delilah to return.

A couple of hours later, Delilah skipped back to her aunt and parents, chattering about some game she had played and hugging her parents’ legs. A short while later, one of the teachers, a humanoid woman in her mid-thirties, came over to talk to them.

“Delilah was a joy to work with today,” she said with a smile. “She got along great with the other kids, tried out all the toys. You’ve got a very clever girl on your hands, Mr. and Mrs. Quill.”

Peter beamed down at his daughter, and Gamora gave the girl’s hand (the one not wound around Gamora’s leg like a Flora Colossus vine) an affectionate squeeze.

“I hate to ask this,” the teacher continued. “But it’s a rather competitive year, and there’s been some issues with parents coaching their kids, and, well, Delilah seemed to catch on to everything so quickly...she even knew one of the games was called ‘Feed the Sarlacc.’”

“That’s insane,” Peter said, shocked. “I mean, as much as we’d love for her to go here, we’d never--how do you even _do_ something like that?”

“I know, it sounds ridiculous, but it’s happened in the past, and I felt I had to ask.”

“We understand,” said Gamora. She turned to Delilah. “Sweetheart, have you ever played ‘Feed the Sarlacc’ before?”

Nebula held her breath as the girl looked up at her parents.

“No, Mommy,” she answered, face the absolute picture of innocence.

Peter shrugged; Gamora smiled slightly at the teacher.

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Quill, thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch,” the teacher said as she shook their hands. Then she waved at her potential student and said, “Bye, Delilah!”

“Bye-bye!”

* * *

“And she just said, ‘No, Mommy,’” Nebula recounted to Rocket.

They were in a crowded bar, discussing the results of their training program away from prying ears on the _Benatar_. 

“‘S not that special,” said Rocket. “I mean, it’s great for us, but kids lie all the time just to see what they can get away with.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Nebula insisted. “She understood the situation and made a conscious decision to say what was to her advantage. She timed it correctly--no hesitation, but also didn’t trip over herself to say anything. She didn’t make it over the top, didn’t offer extra information,” she paused to take a swig of her drink. “It took me _years_ of training with Thanos before I could lie that well. But she did it instinctively.”

Rocket rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure it went just like that,” he said sarcastically.

“You don’t understand,” said Nebula. “She fooled Gamora.”

“So?”

“She’s a _trained assassin_ , Rocket!” she exclaimed, setting her drink down forcefully. “Either my sister has sexually transmitted stupid or that kid is a lot smarter than we thought.”

* * *

“Sunny Steps called,” Gamora said a couple weeks later while they were all catching up over dinner in the _Benatar’s_ dining nook. 

“Oh?” Nebula inquired nonchalantly.

“She didn’t get in.”

Mantis let out a sad ‘awww.’ Nebula and Rocket looked at each other in exasperation.

“I told you, you should have worked with her on her knife skills,” said Drax. “I do not know how you expected her to defeat the other children otherwise. She is much too tiny to be intimidating.”

Peter sighed tiredly. “She didn’t need to ‘defeat’ anyone. We’ve been over this before, Drax. Preschool is about learning to socialize and get ready for primary school, not physical combat.”

“But--”

“They loved Delilah,” Gamora interrupted. “She met all the criteria, but they don’t have any more room in their classes this year.”

“Yeah, they said something about there being more siblings than they expected,” said Peter.

“Why would that make a difference?” asked Rocket.

“If you have one child at the school, any other children you have are automatically admitted,” explained Gamora. 

“That is ridiculous!” Drax boomed. “What if the next one is much stupider?”

Nebula took advantage of Peter and Drax’s unreasonably loud conversation to share her own views on preschool acceptance with Rocket.

“I think letting siblings in is the right call,” she said softly.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t want to risk having to do all this again in a few years.”

“You can say that again, Blue.”

The other end of the table quieted down, and Gamora steered the conversation back to Sunny Steps.

“Anyway,” she said pointedly. “They said we could apply again next year. But we don’t want to make her wait another year when she seems so excited to go to school.”

“We’ve decided on Dayton Public Pre-K,” said Peter.

“She’s a bright kid,” Nebula said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be fine wherever she goes.”

“Thank you, Nebula,” Gamora said softly.

“Neither Terrans nor Zehoberei have bioluminescence--”

“It’s a figure of speech, Drax.”

And while the conversation devolved into a debate on metaphors, Delilah wriggled her way out of her seat and onto Nebula’s lap. She nuzzled her face into Nebula’s chest, and her aunt instinctively put a hand on her back to steady her. Mantis reached over to brush a lock of hair from the girl’s face.

“She feels...love.”

**Author's Note:**

> \--This story is based on the House, M.D. episode titled “Carrot or the Stick” where House tries to train his girlfriend’s daughter to get her into an exclusive preschool. 
> 
> \--‘Feed the Sarlacc’ is a total rip-off of the game Feed the Monkey, which is featured in that episode of House and is a real game you can buy online.
> 
> \--The sarlacc is a fictional creature from the Star Wars universe, first appearing in Return of the Jedi. 
> 
> \--Zarg-Nuts are the things Drax is eating while eavesdropping on Peter and Gamora’s conversation in Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2.
> 
> \--Both schools mentioned are wholly fictitious and of my own invention. Dayton Public Pre-K is named for Mark Dayton, former governor of Minnesota. During his time in office, he focused heavily on improving the public schools, especially early childhood programs.


End file.
